Loki's Prison Spa
by jaqueline-littlebird
Summary: AU. Loki is not brought back to Asgard. He prefers life in prison on Earth. The Avengers wonder why. They also struggle with his magic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Written for a prompt on Norsekink LJ that essentially asked: Loki thinks compared to the dungeons of Asgard, a prison cell on Earth is a wellness resort, and he rather likes it.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, no money.

**Music:** "Twa Corbies" by Schelmish

* * *

**The Ties That Bind**

„He chose WHAT?" Thor and Fury shouted at the same time.

„My brother belongs in Asgard." the distressed thundergod added, while Fury mumbled: „We can't keep the nutter here."

But the gouvernment officials insisted. There was no going back on the deal. That meant, the deranged trickster god would remain in his SHIELD prison cell chained hand and foot as he was, serving his life in prison sentence, until no doubt he'd break out one day and go on another killing spree.

The director was getting a headache.

Thor went to talk to Tony Stark.

* * *

Some weeks later, the magic-repressing cell in the basement of Stark Tower was completed, functional and even tested as best they could. Stark had flown in a gypsy witch from Latveria, who, as expected, could not do any spells inside the cell.

When asked to prove that she could outside, she had turned the unassuming philodendron in the office corner into a lively monster with writhing green tentacles. With quite some difficulty, the Avengers had subdued the plant and shoved it into the special cell, where it had promptly returned to normal. They decided to leave it there. A plant to talk to might even do Loki good.

Arriving at the SHIELD base, Thor, Steve and Tony found the fallen god naked in a cool, dimly lit cell, shackled to a metal bedframe, a feeding tube in his nose. The fit the super soldier threw was nearly as bad as his Asgardian friend's.

„We don't torture! We are the good guys!"

„How dare you treat a prince of Asgard so?" The supposedly superstrong door broke from its hinges with a single strike form Mjölnir.

„I'm not going to Asgard, I'm not!" shrieked the prisoner, newly unshackled and freed of the feeding tube. Loki was backing into a corner like a panther in a zoo with the vetinarian on visit. „You swore! We had a bargain. I am to stay here, forever."

„Brother, you are out of your mind. You can not want to stay here. It's a disgrace, a shame for the house of Odin. Come with me and return to your rightful place!"

Green magic light erupted from the naked figure's hands when the thunderer advanced on him, pushing everyone out of the cell none too gently.

„Wait wait wait what? He has his magic?" a wide-eyed Tony stark asked director Fury.

„O'course he has! We don't have the energy to suppress his magic field. That's the only reason I agreed to hand him over to you with your tower's arc reactor. Genius inventor? Get a brain."

„If he has his magic, why is he still here?"

„I'll be damned if I know, Stark. Guy's crazy."

* * *

At length, they were able to coax the chaos god out of his corner and talk him into taking a look at his new cell, on the condition that Thor renewed his oath not to take him back to Asgard, and both Stark and Fury swore he could choose to return to his SHIELD cell any time he pleased if he did not like Stark's.

That done, Loki offered his hands to be shackled without protest and looked very puzzled when agent Hill ran to find him a SHIELD issue tracksuit first. Did Asgardians usually walk around naked on their home planet? Tony would ask Thor later. Could be fun after some drinks.

* * *

An uneventful ride in a pointlessly reinforced prisoner transport car later, standing in front of the custom-made cell, Loki dug in his heels and shivered. „I want back."

„What?" Had they heard right? This cell had a bed with mattress, a chair, table, loo, sink and even a shower, and Tony hadn't yet shown the special feature: Jarvis could project films and e-books on a wall, so no running errands with books, checking them for hidden messages or knives, and so forth. Heck, the room even had a lovely philodendron.

„Bring me back to my cell at SHIELD. Now!"

„Wow, wow, there, Rudolph. What's the matter? Too fancy for you? I didn't take you for the type, but with all the leather clothing … Maybe horny wants a real dungeon with pillory and shackles, and Steve should whip him twice per day?"

Poor joke and poorer timing. Loki went white as a sheet and threw a full-blown panic attack, tearing his handcuffs apart and scorching the walls with energy blasts. It took all of Thor's strength, and placing Mjölnir on his brother's chest, to subdue him – incidentally inside the cell.

Some shallow, laboured breaths later, and the god relaxed, resigned to defeat. „You tricked me. And they call me trickster." He closed his eyes, gathering himself, then looked at Tony. „What will the plant do?"

„The plant? Nothing. It's a plant. You can talk to it, it's therapeutic."

„Stopy lying, mortal! It's magic. I can't use my power here, but still can feel it. What will that plant do to me?"

Plant? Do to …? Then it clicked in the inventor's mind. Tony's thoughts went in turmoil, a flashback to his time in the Afghan cave threatening at the back of his mind. He needed whisky. Badly.

Thankfully, Steve took over, explaining how the plant had wound up here. „Look, Loki. We don't want to torture you. Stark built this cell so that you needn't be shackled all the time. It was supposed to be an improvement over your cell at SHIELD. If the plant disturbs you, we will remove it. I gave you my word to take you back if you insist, and I will keep it, but please give this a try first, will you? We need to repair the handcuffs anyway in case you want the transport back. By the way, you can dim the light and adjust temperature if you want, just tell Jarvis."

„Jarvis?"

„He is … oh he'll best explain that on his own. I'll stay here with you until you have made your decision. Now, Thor, Tony, please remove the plant."

* * *

Thor was not given to brooding. Puréeing the philodendron with his hammer had distracted him from Loki's fears, and now that Jane Foster had arrived in New York, thunder-boy didn't even visit his brother any more. Tony did brood, but never could convince himself he wanted to talk to their prisoner about … things. Said prisoner being safely locked away, Jarvis and the bots taking care of his needs. The supervillain now even washed and showered on his own account, after Steve had given a demonstration (in swimming trunks no less, what a sahme) that nothing harmful dripped out of the faucets, just plain old water.

Only when Steve returned from a long tour of duty did anyone take an interest in Loki's state of being again.

„Jarvis?" Tony looked up blearily from his whisky bottle under Captain Spandex' reproachful gaze. „How's the evil overlord?"

„Mr Skywalker is fine, Sir." the bodyless voice answered. „I took the liberty of adjusting his diet."

„You did?" upstanding-moral-Spandex interrupted. „What did you feed him, Stark, and what does he get now?" Tony disliked the accusatory tone. As if he'd fed the clown mouldy flatbread or something.

Jarvis replied: „Mr Skywalker was malnourished and underfed upon arrival. I determined that pizza and burgers did not meet his nutritional needs. Under a diet including fresh vegetables and fish, his vital signs have much improved. I dare say the same would go for you, Sir."

Tony grumbled.

Steve looked mollified. „And say, what did he do all this time? Does he read?"

„Currently, Mr Skywalker is teaching me hnefatafl, an Asgardian board game. It's a diversion from our usual fast chess. In case you wonder, Mr Rogers: I have multitasking. By the way, Sir, it would be kind of you to program a hnefatafl board into my games selection, since the cleaning bots destroy our improvised game set of breadcrumbs on the floor every other day."

Steve and Tony stood mouth agape.


	2. Chapter 2

They reviewed Loki's reading and movie list, other requests and visitors. For some reason, the god refused to be addressed as „Mr Odinson", and the AI had complied.

His reading list mostly comprised law texts, including the Geneva Conventions, Human Rights and US constitution. He had requested books on computer tech and programming, which were of course off limits.

The film list started with „Reindeer Games" and proceeded through „Point Break" to the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, but stopped after not much more. Apparently the god had given up on movies after watching ten minutes of „Return of the Killer Tomatoes".

He'd also declared Tony's taste in music an insult to the hearing. Jarvis had downloaded a few new songs after Loki's specifications in topics and instruments. Currently, „Twa Corbies" by Schelmish was playing.

The activities list, Jarvis declared not security relevant but confidential. Without overriding code, the AI would only go so far as to tell they had had long talks about various topics of general interest.

Visitors, there had been none.

* * *

A few days later, curiosity got the better of Tony, and he overrode the privacy code. Jarvis had indeed discussed all kinds of topics with their prisoner: quantum physics, softdrinks, species on other planets, poetry metres, rap battles, the gold standard vs inflation, smurfs, mens' suits, ice hockey, topmodels, sports cars, and absolute power in absolute monarchies.

There were a few relevant files. So, apparently Loki _had _been imprisoned in the past, or so he claimed. Once, as a child, for touching the hammer that was to be Thor's, and it had hummed and wriggled on its pedestal. Odin had been outraged and commissioned some dwarves who had sewn kiddo-Loki's mouth shut so he couldn't tell, the thread growing together with his flesh, only to vanish during his time in the void. (And when was that? What void, anyway?)

Oh, and then he confessed murdering his little brother, Balder, as a teen. Now that was believeable for the mass-murdering bastard. Loki _claimed_ they had been told a spell protected the toddler. „Neither the birds of the sky, nor the plants of the earth, ..." yadda yadda.

Of course all the children had hurled all kinds of things at the boy. Yeah sure, magic wonderland. Until they'd found out to their horror that mistletoe did not grow in the ground and that made a difference.

Snake … cave … dripping acid … Tony remembered the smell of accumulator acid in a cave, of unwashed bodies and rat droppings. He downed another shot and refused to believe. God of lies, totally.

* * *

Jarvis sulked. He (It? They? Dang pronouns.) ordered only olive&anchiovies pizza, decaffeinated coffee, alcohol-free beer, and Thor's least favourite sort of pop-tarts. Standard background music tune in the Iron Man suit was now Rimsky-Korsakov's „Flight of the Bumble-Bee", and once, Tony caught Dummy re-filling a whisky bottle with ginger ale.

He forbade Jarvis to talk with Loki.

Some time later – Thor had meanwhile left with Jane for Stark's Malibu mansion and some quality time – Steve and Pepper pestered him not to be childish and revoke that order that amounted to solitary confinement. They even went down to the basement to visit Loki and inform him of the goings-on.

They found him chatting happily with Jarvis, the AI answering in projected writing. Tony took a deep draft from his bottle and choked when it proved to be root beer.

* * *

The months went by, and the world wasn't safer. Tony had just returned early from withdrawal treatment in Switzerland when Doom attacked. Of course, everyone was after the arc reactor technology these days.

The lights went out, all systems shut down, and mini-robots spewed from the air vents. Jarvis could barely announce the energy signature was of Latverian gypsy magic, then fizzled out of existance. Statics.

Stark facepalmed. That crate in the basement labelled „philodendron fertilizer", delivered from Latveria, he really should have checked it earlier, but he hadn't been well then. Now, without Jarvis, he couldn't even get into his suit.

And there stood Victor von Doom, complete in blackened armour with a billowing green cape. The inventor gulped, but refused to cave. Feigning nonchalance, he sauntered around the counter, filled a glass without looking, and took a swig. (Pepper's organic cranberry juice. Yuck.)

„You look familiar. Have I threatened you before?"

„Doom makes a point of avoiding familiarity with lesser inventors."

In the background, Dummy was chasing one of the small doombots with a screwdriver. Tony inched towards the door while Doom was distracted. If he could get down to the workshop and don the gloves of the Mark 8 at least … Maybe he could even get the systems up and running by connecting them to the emergency backup arc reactor powering Loki's cell even now.

Speaking of the devil – in a puff of green smoke, said alien appeared, instantly populating the room with clones of himself, distracting the doombots.

Later, Tony would say the sight was ridiculous: a room full of Lokis with long, curly hair, dressed in orange prison jumpsuits. Not so at that moment. He was terrified. How had the chaos god escaped? Were the villains allied? Loki looked irate, practically fuming with rage, but oddly – at Doom?

„You! What have you done to Jarvis, mortal?"

„Doom knows no Jarvis. Who is that?"

„My _friend. _He is synthetic, like a lamp genie, a craft of Stark's there."

„Doom's doombots load all blueprints and computer programs down now. If you are interested, you may join Doom's army."

Loki lost it. Yelling, he released a shockwave of magic energy through the building. Doombots crumbled everywhere. Where Doom had stood, now sat a small green frog. Dummy poked it tentatively. It struggled to get on its feet, and croaked.

„You, mortal!" The mad god towered over Tony, gripping him by his shirt front. Green eyes bored into brown ones by eerie magic light. „You. Will. Repair. Him. Do you hear me?"

Tony nodded mutely.

„Good." The trickster shoved him off and vanished.

Dummy whirred by, carrying a jar, and chirped.

* * *

A day and night of frantic repair works, and the lights were up and Jarvis functioning again. By now, the cavalry had arrived also, late as always. Tony would gift Clint and Steve a horseshoe each for Halloween, for arriving hours after the fight.

„One-two-three. Jarvis? Okay. Okay guys, war council. One supervillain – currently frog – captured, the other on the loose. Let's plan how to bring him in again. Jarvis? Scan for Loki, try to find some energy trail or whatever is there."

„Mr Skywalker is currently in his cell in the basement of Stark Tower, Sir."

„What? Uh, no Jarvis. Debug run! Scan again when properly working."

„I am properly debugged, Sir. Do trust your own work! Mr Skywalker teleported back to his cell two minutes ago when I informed him I was present again."

„Two minutes ago?"

„Yes, Sir, 16:43 and 12 seconds local time to be precise."

„Wait, teleported? Magic blockers still off, then?"

„Your magic blocking apparatuses are working to capacity, as they have been throughout as far as my data indicate."

Steve interrupted. „Do you know what he did in the meantime, Jarvis?"

„I shall ask, Sir."

A little while later, the AI reported: „During the time my sensors were off, Mr Skywalker, by his own admission, acquired books on computer science in nearby shops – bill is on you, Sir, by the way. He also attended a Rimsky-Korsakov concert by the New York Philharmonics, disguised in a glamour of your person, including the thinly striped suit Miss Potts declared supremely ridiculous, the tie with the large ketchup stain, and those pink butterfly sunglasses Miss Supermouth-Samantha left here last August."

Disapproving look from Rogers, Barton bent over the armrest with laughter – nothing unexpected there. Probably too late to buy the photos from the paparrazzi. Who cared? He might even wear that combo for his next charity event, just to make a point. Tony Stark, eccentric billionnaire philantropist, could wear what he damn well pleased.

„Furthermore, Mr Skywalker brought some enchanted crystals from Nidavellir which he says may be helpful in safeguarding me from future attacks. He also brought several vibranium ingots as a gift to you, for your assistance, Sir. You will find them in the workshop. When I contacted him minutes ago, he was in the process of redecorating the Statue of Liberty with a glamour of Mr Odinson in a flower-print dress. I believe he aborted that endeavour to return here swiftly."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Clint was off to write a report, Tony in his workshop to start working with substantial amounts of vibranium for the first time in his life, and Steve made his way down to Loki's cell.

He found the Asgardian animatedly describing Nidavellir and its inhabitants to Jarvis. The green-eyed man turned upon hearing his steps. (Green? Since when were his eyes green? Hadn't they been blue?)

„Captain Rogers. Please take a seat."

With a handwave, a chair materialised out of thin air outside the cell. So much for Stark's anti-magic tech.

Steve sat. The chair was solid, no illusion. „Just one question, Loki: Why are you here?"

Their prisoner blinked, then smiled serenely, pointing up towards the cameras and speakers. „Where else would I want to be?"

„I'm honouered." stated Stark's AI.

Steve left them after a few friendly words. He'd have to think about this, but for the time being, there seemed to be no threat. One thing he was fairly sure of: He never wanted to see Asgard.


End file.
